Crazy in Lust, Volume 1
by Wallace
Summary: Faith finds herself - briefly - in Arkham Asylum. And makes a friend. Meanwhile, Willow comes looking for her. Rated for implied sex and violence, and moral relativism.
1. 1: Uh Oh

Title: Crazy in Lust, Volume 1.

Author: Wallace (wal_lace@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG for implied sex and violence and moral relativism.

Note: Part of Troll Princess' Pairing List that Ate Fandom, which can be found monthly on . This will eventually be two pairings.

Disclaimer: I make no claim on the characters and concepts utilised and referenced herein, and acknowledge that they are the property of DC Time Warner and Mutant Enemy.

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Crazy in Lust, Volume 1

  
  
Faith's really trying to be a good guy these days, and part of that is not hurting cops. Even if said cops have just found you staggering down the street waving a battle-axe, a direct result of stumbling into what Wesley had described as a 'dimensional vortex' right in the middle of a serious fight, and taken what you told them as clear evidence you were a nutcase.

  
But, what with the whole 'not hurting them' thing, and the part where they had guns and an unsympathetic attitude, that's how she ended up in this particular nuthouse, waiting for nightfall so she could do a runner. It was a weird place, with some seriously high security cells; luckily, they seemed to have seriously underestimated her.

  
No, Faith didn't see escaping from Arkham Asylum as being any problem.

  
At least until she met her cellmate.

  
-  
  
"Hi!" Said the blonde.

  
Faith grunted.

  
"New cellmate, huh?" The blonde sounded friendly. Faith had no problems with this. The blonde also sounded almost psychotically perky, which was enough to have Faith seriously reconsidering her 'no killing humans' thing. After all, the girl was in a maximum security lunatic asylum. She was probably Evil, or at least evil, in any case.

  
The blonde was smiling at Faith in a way that made her uncomfortable. It wasn't predatory, or nervous, or calculating, or even patently false, all of which she could deal with. No, the blonde looked genuinely, totally, happy to see her.

  
"So," she went on, in a tone of friendly inquiry. "You wanna be my bitch?" She might have been suggesting going out for ice cream for all the threat she put in to the offer.

  
Faith glared at her. "Guess." Was all she said.

  
"Okay." The blonde paused, clearly waiting for Faith to say something. Faith just stared at her, and after a moment she crumbled. "So… you wanna make me your bitch, then?"

  
Faith hesitated.

  
The blonde smirked at her, and then posed coquettishly, one leg extended, flipping her hair back.

"Why not?" Faith replied. After all, she had time to kill.

  
-  
  
It was four hours later. Sex had, as they say, been had. At considerable length; the blonde had proved to have quite exceptional stamina, especially for someone so… decorative. But now at last she was snoring in the bottom bunk. Faith reclined above her, licking her fingers, and mused on escape. She spent some minutes trying to marshal her resources, assess the situation, and formulate a plan. Then she got bored with planning, and decided to get on with it.

-  
  
From a moral perspective, she was fairly certain she wasn't doing anything wrong. After all, if the security was inadequate at this joint, any kind of maniac could be unleashed onto an unsuspecting populace. By exploring, exploiting and exposing the faults in the system, Faith was only doing her civic duty.

  
She wasn't completely sure just where the part where she bent her cell bars apart came into this theory, but it still seemed pretty good to her.

  
She was fairly certain that grabbing a prison guard by the throat, hustling him into a storeroom, and breaking his fingers until he told her the way out and where her clothes and weapons were stored wasn't a moral act but hey, she was in the nuthouse already. An insanity plea was pretty much guaranteed.

  
-

  
She stepped out of the storeroom, leaving the guard carefully unconscious, laid on his back, fingers splinted and airways unobstructed (crazy is fine, but evil is right out), and found the blonde waiting for her.

  
"Hi!" Her perkiness seemed undimmed.

  
"Hey." Faith allowed, grudgingly. She managed not to make it a question, but it took an effort of will.

  
"Are you two done?" The girl asked, peering round her. "Or you wanna be alone some more?"

  
"We're done." Faith said. "I'm going."

  
"Mind if I tag along? It's just Mr J gets distracted and forgets to spring me outta here, and he probably needs me by now."

  
"Mr J?"

  
"My puddin'. Well, kinda…"

  
"Whatever." Faith turned and strode down the passageway.

  
"Where you going?" The blonde was almost dancing alongside her.

  
"Out."

  
"That's the wrong way."

  
"I'm going to get my clothes first, alright?"

  
"That's the wrong way. That just leads to the maximum security guard station." Faith stopped dead.  
"How do you know?"

  
"I used to work here." The blonde gave her a smile like a mouthful of perfect pearls. "They keep our stuff near the entrance. That way."

  
"Bastard." Faith muttered to herself. Heading back up the corridor she broke off just long enough to step into the storeroom and break the guard's jaw. Then, not without some misgivings, she followed the blonde.


	2. 2: Hunted and Hunters

Comfortable in broken-in jeans and a soft leather jacket, Faith unloaded her personal effects from the box in which they had been stored. She strapped on her watch, stuffed cash, driver's licence (complete with false name but, tragically, bearing her real, just-too-young-to-drink, age), and presumably useless credit cards into her wallet and dropped it into one hip pocket, stuffed her keys, which presumably opened no locks in this world, into the other, settled a stake in the back of her belt, sheathed her knife on her left hip, tucked her other knife into her right armpit, slid her other other knife into her boot, and tucked her lighter into her jacket. She was ready.  
  
  
Faith paused a moment, glancing over the names on the other property drawers. Arkham clearly had some very, very odd occupants, but nothing sprang out at her as likely to be useful.  
  
  
'Yo, blondie, you ready?' She said, loud enough to be heard around the corner.  
A slim figure stepped into view and strutted delicately towards her. Faith stared.  
She managed not to laugh out loud, but it was a struggle. The young woman was clad in possibly the most bizarre costume she had ever seen, including everything Willow had ever worn.  
On the other hand, black and red were definitely her. She wasn't sure about the makeup, though, which was even heavier than how Faith herself used to wear it.  
'Who are you supposed to be? The Crow?'  
And then there was the hat. The hat just…  
'Harley Quinn.' And there was the smile again, sweet and kind with undertones of insanity, and Faith couldn't help but smile back. The blonde gestured towards the exit. 'You wanna?'  
  
  
Harley moved fast and, surprisingly, didn't seem to talk much. Which isn't to say she was silent; the woman was actually _skipping_ along, humming to herself. Faith was fairly certain she should be irritated, but there was just something about the blonde that…  
And then two guards walked round the corner and right in to them, and rather derailed that train of thought.  
  
  
Faith reacted fast, grabbing the nearest guard's shotgun and using it to jerk him towards herself, delivering a brutal head-butt. She felt his nose break, and then hit him in the chest with an open palm, sending him hurtling backwards. Faith registered his landing, hard on his back, out of the corner of her eye as she whirled to deal with the other guard.  
Who was slumped on his knees, swaying slightly. Harley hit him again, and he folded over and stopped moving.  
Harley had hit him with the biggest mallet Faith had ever seen. She promptly whipped it behind her back.  
'Where did that come from?' Faith asked.  
'Where did what come from?'  
'That hammer.'  
'What hammer?'  
Faith looked for a moment into clear, guileless blue eyes. Then she shrugged, slung the shotgun over her shoulder, and turned away.  
'So how far to the exit?'  
  
  
It was later. The Popsicle stand had been well and truly blown, the four screaming police cars that had been pursuing their stolen ride had been shaken off long enough to go to ground, and a manhole had been lifted, allowing the two fugitives to slip down into the dark and labyrinthine undercity of Gotham.  
Faith leaned back against the brick wall or an access tunnel and smiled. Not a bad evening. Four rather ugly demons dusted, a new world visited, lots of sex with a hot blonde, an escape from prison, and a car chase. The car chase was actually a new experience for her, but she reckoned she could get to like it.  
'So. What now? She asked. Harley was a little further down the tunnel, standing on one leg. Faith wasn't sure why the girl was standing on one leg, but she seemed to enjoy it. 'You going to find your Mr J guy?'  
'Naw. He's probably kinda busy.' Harley flipped forward, and stood on one hand. 'I figure I'll look up Red instead. You wanna come?'  
  
  
**_Meanwhile…_**  
  
  
Batman was busy on Justice League business. Azrael was doing whatever it was he did when he went off on his own; Tim just hoped he wasn't talking to St Dumas again. Batgirl was dealing with Harley Quinn's latest breakout from Arkham. Nightwing was over in Bludhaven, safely on his own territory. Which meant that Robin had been stuck with this particular duty.  
  
Tim Drake closed his eyes for just a moment, and thought soothing thoughts. Then he opened them and looked anew at the young woman he was talking to.  
'I'm sorry, Miss.' He said, his tone carefully polite. 'But could you please just run that by me one more time?'  
'Okay. I'm a witch from an alternative reality…'  
'I got that part.'  
'I'm here looking for a Slayer named Faith.'  
'And a Slayer would be?'  
'The One Girl in All the World, except that there are loads of them now.'  
'I see.' It wasn't technically a lie; Tim hadn't specified exactly what it was he saw. 'And she's superhuman?'  
'Yep.' The woman nodded enthusiastically. 'Nothing like the people you have here, but still dangerous. Did I mention that she's psychotic?'  
'I thought you were on her side.'  
She frowned.  
'Faith's pretending to be one of the good guys these days, but she's still a psycho. She doesn't respect other people as human beings. She thinks she can do what she likes, to anyone, without ever asking permission. Also, she occasionally kills people.'  
'Occasionally?'  
'Yeah.' She smiled; Tim supposed the expression was supposed to be endearing, and to be honest she was kind of cute. But the last thing he wanted was to become the _second_ Robin to get involved with a redhead five years his senior, even if this one did dye her hair. He was enough like Dick as it was, and Willow Rosenburg had even materialised carrying a heavily customised laptop computer.  
'What stimuli provoke her to homicidal behaviour?'  
'Oh, Faith doesn't need to be provoked. She just likes to kill people.'  
Okay, maybe not **that** much like Dick. Barbara at least had intelligence enough to see things from another person's perspective.  
'I see. And do you have any idea _why_ she likes to kill people?'  
'Because she's psychotic.' Willow sounded like she was explaining something to a very small child. Tim frowned behind his mask. He had a feeling this was going to prove… trying.  
But Bruce had told him to deal with this situation, which meant it had to be dealt with.  
'Do you at least have a picture of this girl?' He asked.  



End file.
